Rivers wind unnoticed
through the brown hills
and budding trees,
where dark, little birds
pierce the blue sky.

I drift in vague symmetry
lying somewhere on the grass,
among the wild onion sprouts,
and watch the
cherry blossoms fall
like tardy flakes of winter snow.

I want to hug the earth
and kiss the sky;
but one is too big,
the other too high.

The billowing clouds
drift stately by,
as imperious as spirit barks
of long-dead pharaohs
and their queens;
and I dream of Cleopatra
and beautiful Nefertiti
so long ago on the fertile Nile.

I should quit dreaming,
I suppose,
rise up and mow the lawn,
but it will just grow back.
And no one will say,
a thousand years from now,
'Here lies that great conqueror of the grass.'

No, I think the idle man is wise
who takes his time upon the grass
to revel in the blessings of the spring,
the things that cannot last.

kendall thomas

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-blessings/